


Fine Tuning

by wanderinwinter



Category: Once Upon a Time (TV)
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-01-21
Updated: 2015-01-21
Packaged: 2018-03-08 13:21:37
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 641
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3210626
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/wanderinwinter/pseuds/wanderinwinter
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>One-Shot. Moe French hires Mr. Gold as a violin tutor for Belle to prepare her for a college scholarship audition.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Fine Tuning

When Belle’s father dropped her off at the pink Victorian house, she had no idea what to expect. She had heard of the notorious Mr. Gold from other students in Storybrooke High, ranting about how strict he was when it came to collecting rent. Emma told her that she once saw him beat a man with his cane for breaking a deal. So obviously, Belle was terrified of taking lessons from this man.

But she needed to be perfect if she was going to ace the audition, and Mr. Gold was supposedly the best in town. While he wasn’t running the Pawn Shop, he was giving lessons to the local high school and college orchestra students. 

It was with reluctance, then, that she walked up to his door and knocked. She heard faint mumbling behind the door before the sound of click of the locks being turned. Belle was tempted to quickly run before he had noticed she was there, but she wouldn’t have had the chance. The door opened suddenly and he was behind it.

“Hello, Mr. Gold,” Belle greeted. Her legs were shaking at the sight of him. He was wearing a fitted, black three-piece suit with a red button-up shirt and black tie. His light brown hair had a few dashes of grey and went down to his shoulders. “Come on in, Dearie,” he told her and she melted at the sound of his Scottish accent. 

She followed him to a dreary room off to the side with a music stand propped up at a height where one could stand while playing. He waited to the side as she placed her violin case on an empty chair and tightened her bow. Belle lifted her instrument to her left shoulder and begun tuning it, starting with A and using that to tune the G, D, and E strings. 

She thought he wasn’t paying attention, but after a minute had passed, he strode over to her and took the violin from her hands. “We’ll be here all night if we continue at this rate.” He had finished tuning just as soon as he had started, and she wasn’t sure if she should be offended or relieved. 

Mr. Gold gave it back to her and she held it in resting position before collecting the bow and instrument in one hand to take out the sheet music for the song she had been working on. Her confidence levels were beginning to dwindle. “It’s a piece by Bach.” He came closer to her to examine the music, then said, “Alright, play.”

The command had caught Belle off guard, but she swept the violin up to her shoulder and eyed the first few measures before sliding the bow across the string. Ten measures in, he interrupted. “Stop.” She looked confusedly at him, which he caught, and proceeded to explain. “You need to dig your bow into the strings. Play with feeling.” 

Belle began again, but this time he only waited four measures to stop her. He approached the stand, and said, “Let me show you.” In mere moments, his hand was wrapped gently around hers, and he told her to start over. Her stomach was in knots and she tried to maintain composure, unable to handle the closeness of Mr. Gold. He guided her hand holding the bow, pressing down slightly as her fingers danced across the fingerboard. 

When Belle had understood how he wanted her to play, he stepped back and allowed her to continue through the song on her own, commenting every once in a while or asking her to start over. This went on for another hour or so. Despite his strictness, she enjoyed the lesson thoroughly. Belle could not deny she was attracted to him in some way, which would certainly make next four weeks interesting, to say the least.


End file.
